For singing bowls wearing meat suits 🍖

There’s a type of fullness that silences you.

The kind where you’ve consumed so much, scrolled so much, taken in so much, overridden so much that you can’t hear your own signals anymore.

You’re like a singing bowl with towels tossed inside it, wrapped around it.

Quietly thinking: If I can hold more information, I’ll be worthy. If I armour myself with more knowledge, I’ll be safe.

But it’s an unconscious protection mechanism disguised as participation and vigilance. 

A muffled illusion. You can’t ring. Not even a dull knock. You’re just stuck in a holding pattern, a hiding pattern. And it feels like the only way out is to jump out of your own skin…or shatter.

This is what I noticed in myself last week.

Filling silences. Dampening discomfort. Content running in the background. Me running away. Because when it's quiet, something was waiting for my attention that I didn’t want to face. 

I didn’t even know what I was avoiding. Until I stopped long enough to notice.

In this week’s soul care kit, we gently remove one cloth at a time. 

🎶 One Song

This music feels like unconditional love. It holds space for all the feelings to flutter about the heart and for the human spirit to dance in them, freely.

There’s a steadiness in the piano. Unhurried and holding its own pace, like someone who’s decided to keep walking forward no matter what. Then the brass comes in, like catching a glimmer in the corner of your eye — maybe it’s sunlight, maybe a smile, maybe a tear. When another steady voice enters and walks with the piano, its presence makes you feel less alone. A reminder that beauty doesn’t wait for suffering to be over before it shows up for you.

Underneath all that noise, all that armour, something has been quietly loving you this whole time. This is what it feels like to remove one cloth at a time. Not cathartic. Not dramatic. More like “Oh, there you are. There I am.” It just needs your attention. Frustration, sadness, joy, gratitude, all braided together. The truth of being alive.

Agape means unconditional love. Let it find you right where you are.

🪷 One Poem

“As much truth as one can bear.” That was James Baldwin’s challenge to writers in 1962. He ended with this:

He was writing about a nation. But it applies just as well to an individual on a Tuesday evening, phone in hand, Netflix on in the background, and something quietly waiting for your attention.

〰️ One Move

Your body is a singing bowl, meant to ring.

Place both palms over your belly. Feel the warmth of your own hands. Now breathe and let your hands flow.

Inhale…let your belly rise first, and as it does, let your hands float outward, making space. Continue the breath up into your chest, your hands rising with it. Then one final sip of air all the way up to the crown of your head.

Exhale…and let it all go. Hands float gently downward, palms releasing, like you’re laying something down. Like you’re setting a cloth aside.

Do this three times. It doesn’t fix anything, but it does remind your body that it knows how to make space. And that you’re paying enough attention to know when to stop filling it with everything else.

Want to Clear the Bowls with me? Follow along below.

May you be brave enough to pause.
May you find love waiting in the quiet.
May you ring clear and true.

With gratitude,
Karen

P.S. If this resonated, that’s your signal. On March 8, we gather to remove the cloths from the bowl. To unwrap in stillness, be held in sound, to remember what ringing feels like. I'd love to see you there. Here’s the link for details and to save your spot.

#25